


Vanilla

by Flazéda (peternurphy)



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Emetophilia, Fluff, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 14:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/pseuds/Flaz%C3%A9da
Summary: Exploring an interest in a strange human quirk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to shameblog666 on tumblr, originally written ~ march 2016

According to Nyarlathotep, it’s freezing out. According to Randolph, it’s rather balmy. At the very least, it’s just gotten warm enough for the ice cream shop at Stocketts and Cecelia to open for the season. Randolph is able to cajole Nyarlathotep into taking the short walk there with him, even though Nyarlathotep rarely eats. “Don’t you want to keep me company?” He’d asked - and besides, Nyarlathotep ends up stealing several bites of the vanilla soft serve on the walk back.

Randolph falls onto the couch when they get home, full and lazy. His head aches just a little bit from the chill of the ice cream still lingering in his mouth - more so than the taste. If he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek he can taste the sweetness and a little bit of vanilla. He looks up at the ceiling, half dazed.

And then he’s staring into a pair of dark eyes. He jumps - it’s very much pleasant, but it’s unexpected. Nyarlathotep smirks at him and lets him sit up against the arm of the sofa. Their arms twine around each others waists and Nyarlathotep tilts his head to kiss Randolph on the lips, softly. He pulls back with narrowed, quizzical, eyes, and kisses Randolph again. His tongue is warm against the chill in Randolph’s mouth; Randolph pushes back against it, softly.

“Mm - I’ve got brainfreeze,” murmurs Randolph.

“Brainfreeze.” Nyarlathotep runs his fingers across Randolph’s lips, then presses his index finger against Randolph’s upper lip, below the cupid’s bow. “I can’t recall you telling me about that.”

“Cold food. Headache.” Randolph brings his hand to the base of Nyarlathotep’s hair at the back of his neck. He pauses. “Probably ate too much, anyway-”

The fingers push inside his lips as he speaks. They graze over Randolph’s bottom teeth, softly, and are tasteless, but Randolph detects rosy-scented soap and something metallic.   
Nyarlathotep hums softly - his lips are curved into a small smile. He turns his hand and presses up, warm, against where Randolph’s hard and soft palate meet. “That any better?”

It is. The throbbing fades to nothingness rather quickly.“Yeah, actually,” says Randolph, as best he can around the two fingers in his mouth. Saliva shines at the bases of the fingers. Randolph pulls his mouth back by maybe an inch; Nyarlathotep pushes his fingers further, deeper into Randolph’s mouth. He makes a sound between a cough and a laugh as the fingers brush the deeper, softer, areas of his mouth. As they reach the entrance throat, Randolph coughs again. More of the saliva runs down Nyarlathotep’s fingers; Nyarlathotep responds to this with a jab that makes Randolph cough harder.

“Wha'r y'doin’,” says Randolph. He can’t enunciate around the fingers effectively. Nyarlathotep shrugs and gives him a sweet smile. Randolph glances downwards. There’s a not-unnoticeable arch in the crotch of Nyarlathotep’s jeans; it presses against the top of Randolph’s left thigh. “Mm?”

Randolph ghosts his hand over the arch; Nyarlathotep pulls his fingers from his mouth. He leaves them on Randolph’s chin; the saliva drips down from the sides of Randolph’s lips. Nyarlathotep begins to wipe the saliva away and pull back - “You- you can continue. If you want.” It’s less unpleasant that Randolph would think. Even with fingers being jammed down his throat - with not unclear intentions - Nyarlathotep is close up against him and turned on, and his fingers are soft and his touches are light. Randolph opens his mouth, slightly, as invitation.

Instead of pushing back with the fingers, thicker black tendrils form from the base of his hand at the back of his wrist and push into his mouth. One of them presses lightly against his upper lip. The sensation is as if there’s an increase in pressure in the air where the tentacle is visible - clearly present, but not entirely as physical as Nyarlathotep’s hands or body or cock. Another enters his mouth. Randolph sucks on it softly, and he feels Nyarlathotep’s erection shift against his leg. Previous experience tells him that it’s sensitive. Yet when Randolph raises his tongue to draw it along the tendril, it pushes his tongue down and wraps around it, holding it in place at the bottom of his mouth. Randolph moves his tongue to test the hold - it’s stronger than the appearance would indicate.

A third emerges, branching from the same stem as the first two. This one is thicker and flicks in the air before it enters his mouth. It doesn’t linger inside, it goes straight to his throat and begins to tease and circle around the back of his throat. When Randolph coughs and gags around it, he feels Nyarlathotep’s cock twitch through his jeans. He undoes the top button and undoes the zipper; stimulates him more directly through the thinner fabric of his boxers.

Then it finds its mark. Randolph gags harder when Nyarlathotep digs against the muscle that covers the opening to his throat. His entire upper body spasms with the gag. He coughs and sputters when the tentacle draws back, and more saliva runs down his chin and down the tentacles. He pressures the palm of his hand into Nyarlathotep’s cock while continuing to cough.   
Midcough, with no warning, Nyarlathotep jabs his throat with the tentacle again. The spasm is stronger and Randolph’s saliva runs thicker. Nyarlathotep continues to ram against the throat with the tip of the tentacle; Randolph gags and coughs and feels his chin and mouth and Nyarlathotep’s hand wet with spit. Then finally, the pressure goes to the exact area of the back of his throat and the shudder pulses through Randolph’s entire body with a heave and white cream and bile that runs down the tentacles and down all of Randolph’s front.

He breathes deeply. His eyes are wet from gagging and he coughs a bit, but less than before. His mouth tastes sweet, but it’s a sticky, somewhat sour, sweetness. Nyarlathotep leans closer to kiss the side of Randolph’s mouth. The fluid sticks to them and lingers on Nyarlathotep’s lips as he pulls back. His cock is throbbing in Randolph’s hand now. When Randolph moves his tongue by maybe the millimeter he is able, Nyarlathotep twitches.

Randolph coughs and flexes his palm slightly, and moves his head forwards - a second invitation. He feels like he’s going to throw up again regardless of what Nyarlathotp does, and he had felt exactly how much Nyarlathotep had liked causing him to vomit. Nyarlathotep raises an eyebrow and Randolph gives him a smile, despite the bile hanging in the back of his mouth and the strain and wetness around his eyes and the vomit down his front. The pain is something he enjoys.

The tendril probes against his throat again. Randolph feels the muscles in his stomach and esophagus pushing upwards, and his throat straining with empty heaves. With each heave he increases the speed at which he pumps Nyarlathotep’s cock harder and faster. This prompts Nyarlathotep to press the tentacle into his throat more desperately - so Randolph pulls back, teasing him. The hand not on his chin grabs the back of his head and pulls it forwards; the tentacle pushes, with no resistance, into Randolph’s throat

Randolph coughs and heaves around the tentacle while it teasingly jabs to find that spot that triggers the full gag reflex. And so, Randolph does the same to him. Nyarlathotep is expressive - albeit not in a typical human way, but Randolph has learned over time to read the hummings in the air and see behind the carefully constructed expressions. Nyarlathotep is close. Randolph hears him whine, softly, under his breath, and looks expectantly at him - mouth open, bile and cream and saliva hanging from his lips.

“Well?” He pronounces - or tries to pronounce - around the tentacles. The vibrations from his larynx clearly carry sensation - Nyarlathotep pushes into his hand with his hips, and into his throat with the tendril. It hits the exact area to make Randolph gag heavily - heavy enough that he purges the rest of the melted ice cream with even more force. It falls over Nyarlathotep’s forearm and a bit onto his torso, as Nyarlathotep comes - thicker and silvery, distinct against the fabric of his shirt and the lighter, more clear vomit.

The tentacles retract from Randolph’s mouth and Nyarlathotep kisses him again, in the center of his mouth and soft. Part of Randolph wants to get water - but he pushes it back for the moment, in favor of the warm arms that hold his heaving chest. He breathes heavily and coughs, beginning to clear the bile from his throat, and relaxes - and before he gets up to clean himself, he mimics Nyarlathotep’s smug smirk. So you do have something, after all.


End file.
